My Sexy panty Man
by Jessicanov201
Summary: 1st place public vote and 2ed place judges vote for the Spring Squeezing contest. Bella hates to do laundry, but gets more than she expected at her local laundromat.


A/N: Note: This story will become part of a one shot called Laundromat Confessiosn. It will contain a series of one shots, as Bella and Edward have a bit of fun...

My Sexy Pantie Man

I love spring. It brings new colors, smells, and more sun. The snow begins to melt, you see glimpses of green. The birds begin to fly home, and you are graced with their songs. It brings warmth and smaller clothes. There are so many things I love about spring, but the one thing I hate is spring-cleaning. There is so much to do, and never enough time.

Out of all these chores that come with the beauty of spring, laundry is the one chore that I utterly despise. Yes the one chore that needs to be done. I mean, come on, how long can you seriously go without clean panties, and this time of year, the panties get smaller with the clothes. Throughout the year, I have been known to have my delicates hanging throughout my apartment more than once. Just so I don't have to make the trip to the laundry mat. It's the one thing I miss about living at home; not having my own washer and dryer. But I am a grown up, now with my own home, and need to be the adult. I can't rely on Mom and Dad any more.

I gather the dirty clothes from around my small but quaint home. Maybe it would be easier if I had all the dirty items in one place, but hey, I'm twenty-two, and I have better things to do sometimes. It's no surprise that I find jeans in the living room, socks in the kitchen, and shirts in the hall. I gather as much as I can cram into the basket and proceed to haul it to the building two blocks down.

When I arrive at the local laundry mat, the place is empty, and I'm glad. It always creeps me out when there are others around. I feel like they are looking at what I wear, so I make it a point to go late at night. I sure as hell don't need some slob of a stranger seeing what I wear under my clothes. I know, call me strange, or paranoid, but it's how I am. So, yes, I come late on a Tuesday night just to avoid people.

I place my basket in the cart and pull it over to the change machine. I place in my twenty-dollar bill and wait for my quarters. Yes, it actually does cost me that much. I guess it's what I get for waiting so long. Once I have my trusty quarters, I go find the largest machine I can find and proceed to cram it full. Who cares if they are not sorted by colors and fabrics? I just want them clean, and the faster I can get in and out of here, the better.

I go to pull out my iPod to pass the time, only to realize that I forgot it. I silently curse myself, and begin to look through random magazines. I jump when I hear the buzzer alerting me that the wash is done. All I need to do now is wait for them to dry. I wander around aimlessly and look at different brochures and posters on the wall. God, could this be any duller? Why does laundry have to be so boring? There has got to be something better to do to pass the time.

Finally, after what seems likes hours, I hear the tone telling me that my clothes are now dry. I may try to cram everything into one or two washers, but when it comes to dryers, I use three or four. I hate static, and it seems that the more I cram the dryers, the more I get. I may also be a dryer sheet whore, and have been known to put two or three in each load.

When the dryers are done doing their job, I pile all my clean, fresh clothes into the cart, and head to the sorting table. Sure, I could do this at home, but that's just the problem. If I bring all these clothes home now, they will stay in the basket and never get put away. I have learned to force myself to stay and fold them all neatly.

One other thing, I'm obsessed with smelling my newly cleaned, freshly fluffed towels. I pick up my favorite pair of power panties, and suddenly a thought crosses my mind. I wonder if they smell as fresh and clean. I raise them a bit higher, and then laugh at myself. I can't believe I was just about to smell my panties. I must be losing my mind. Just as I lower them, I hear the bell that is over the door. Damn, I'm no longer alone. I refuse to look up as I quickly try to fold the undergarment. I can hear heavy footsteps walking towards me. I feel the air begin to rush around me as if it's charged.

"Good evening." I hear a voice say, and fuck if it doesn't sound sexy as hell.

I was going to avoid the person, but my mom taught me to be polite. I look up to respond and instantly wish I hadn't. The man looking back at me is fine, and I mean FINE. Fuck, I should have done laundry sooner, because today is not the day to run out of clean panties. I sure could use a pair right now. Just looking at this man is making me wet. He is tall, about six feet, and his body is hard. He is wearing board shorts and a tight-fitting t-shirt. I can easily see the ripples of his chest and abs, and damn I would love to hand wash my unmentionables over them. He has the deepest green eyes I have ever seen, and the strangest shade of hair. It's not quite red, but not brown either. Holy hell, this man is sex on a stick, and damn what I could give to hold that stick. Note to self; I need to get laid.

He clears his throat and smiles, and it's then I realize I have not responded to him, and I am openly ogling him while holding a black lace thong. I feel the blush flood my face as he looks to what I'm holding, and I instantly drop it and shove it under a sweatshirt. "Hi," Is all I can manage to get out. He chuckles a bit and then tells me to have a good night, before walking off to the dryer on the other side of the building. I finished the laundry quickly, and made a decision that I would be back next Tuesday. Maybe, just maybe, I would get lucky enough to see him again.

~~~0~~~

I have planned tonight well. Tonight, my routine is a bit different as I, for the first time in my life, sort my loads. I have placed all the panties in one wash, and all my other clothes in another. Hey, I said I sorted them, I didn't say I sorted them correctly. I may have added a few other items in there that may or may not be panties, but still require the delicate cycle. I know that once I start folding, he will show up. When my clothes are dry, I fold everything but the panties first. I'm saving them for last. It feels like forever since I have been able to get off, and I have found myself in a constant state of wetness thinking about the tall man from the laundry mat a few weeks ago. Now that I think of it, I have seen him in there before, and I am hoping to be graced with the presence of my sexy pantie man. Yes, that it what I have named him. It seems that every time he walks in, I'm holding a pair of my panties. I have even wondered if he watches me through the window just to time it that way. I have yet to catch him though. Tonight, I don't rush to fold the panties, but instead, take my time. I'm afraid to say that my folding technique has gone down the drain. I seem to pay more attention to my thoughts of him then the clothes.

I can't help it though. Every night he comes in looking better than the last. He always says, "Good evening" and nothing more. I have caught him staring a time or two though. I have also made sure that none of my emergency 'granny panties' are mixed in. Nope, Tuesday nights are full of lace and frills. I have also been dressing up so to say when I go.

I'm folding my favorite pair of black lace panties when my thoughts begin to wonder. Every time he comes in, I am folding this exact pair. I had planned not to wear any tonight, but at the last moment, I decide to slip them on, as I imagine him walking up behind me, sliding his hands over my body. God, I really need to get off. I look around making sure that I'm alone and let out the breath I've been holding as I feel my hand touch my neck. I slide it slowly down over the curves of my breast. I have to muffle a moan, as I begin to tease and pull at my nipples. I may have also forgotten to wear a bra tonight. My hand travels slower as I think of his eyes. They are the most intense I've ever seen, and the brightest shade of green. My hand reaches the top of my skirt, and I briefly wonder if I am really going to do this. I know its risqué, but I need the release. It's been too long, and this man does things to my body. My fingers caress my stomach as my hand inches lower. The short length of my skirt works to my advantage, and I slowly slip my hand under the soft fabric.

The softness of my fingers meets the even softer skin of my center. I'm so wet and already starting to swell with need. I slowly slide my fingers from my opening up to my clit. My free hand reaches out to grab the table. It feels so good, and knowing that at any time I could get caught seems to enhance the sensation. I begin to rub my fingers a bit faster and with just a bit more pressure. I reach a bit lower and slowly insert one finger inside. I moan, but no longer care. I'm lost in my thoughts and feelings. What I would give to make the fantasy come true.

"Do you honestly go through that many panties in a week, or are you trying to tell me something." I feel a tremble flow though my body and it stops directly between my thighs. I freeze instantly as I realize he is standing behind me. How did I not hear the door? Does he realize where my hand is? I squeeze my thighs together trying to stop the liquid from running down my thigh, all the time not forgetting that my hand is still between them.

"Whatever do you mean?" I ask shyly. Part of me is hoping he knows what I'm doing.

"Oh, I think you know. I have noticed over the last few weeks your laundry habits are changing."

"Maybe I just need to change my panties often."

"Why on earth would you need to change them that often?"

"They get wet," I simply state. I can feel the moisture gathering around my hand. I move my hand in what I hope is a slow manner trying to gain friction. I hear him groan behind me, and I'm instantly wetter.

"Tell me, what would get you so wet?" he says. I'm about to answer him when I feel a large hand on the back of my thigh. Its right below my ass, and it's rubbing back and forth gently.

"Thoughts," I moan out. He steps closer to me, and moves his hand to my hip. He is squeezing and kneading it gently.

"Tell me, beautiful, what kind of thoughts make you touch yourself in a public place where anyone could walk in and see you?" His words are making me hotter and wetter. I feel his body press against mine, and I know I have him right where I want him.

"Thoughts of a boy," I breathe out.

"Show me," he whispers in my ear.

"Show you what?" I reply.

"Show me how your panties get wet. What these thoughts of some "_boy_" can do to you.

I slowly remove my hand from between my thighs and turn and stare deep into his eyes. I can see the lust and need in them. Can I do this? Should I do this? One look at the sex god standing before me, and I know I'll do anything he asks. His hands grip my hips and lift me so that I am sitting on the counter in front of him. He runs his hands down the outside of my thighs and stops when he reaches my knees. He pushes them gently apart and takes a step closer. He leans in, not letting go of my knees, and whispers in my ear, "Touch yourself."

"I…can't…what if someone was to come in?"

"Now you play shy? It didn't seem to stop you a moment ago." I look at him as if I have no clue what he's talking about. He leans in closer; our noses barley touching. "I know what you were doing; I could see you from across the room. I can smell it on your hands. Come on, it's just us. There is no one else here. You have been teasing and tormenting me for weeks. I can't take it anymore."

"What do you mean teasing you?" I say as my hand lightly caresses my breast.

"Don't play coy with me. You think I haven't noticed the change in your clothes, or the change in your laundry. You really come here the same time every Tuesday night, only to wash all of your panties, and don't think I didn't notice what pair is missing." He smiles at me and my face floods with the blush I can't control. He's been watching me as much as I've been watching him. "Please…touch yourself."

My hand starts to descend my body slowly. His eyes are glued to every motion. It's as if he controls me. I want to please him and can't stop as my hand moves down my body; slowing once I've passed my belly button. I watch him as he watches me. I can see the anticipation on his face. He wants this, and it's been weeks since I've gotten laid. My hand reaches the hem of my skirt and in the position I'm in, he's getting an up-close view of my panties. I start to rub my fingers over the silky material. It's so thin and wet that I may as well be wearing nothing. I lean back on the table and rest my weight on one elbow. It's giving him a great view of my body, and I can still watch him. His eyes continue to watch as I press harder.

"Tell me what you are thinking," he growls.

"The boy,"

"Tell me about him. What gets you this wet?"

"He's tall, and has a body to drool over. He's sexy as hell."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know. I've never asked him."

"Is he taller than me?"

"No." I moan, both from the sound of his voice, and the sight of him palming his rock-hard erection.

"Is he hotter than me?"

"No."

"Is any of this…" I groan loud as I feel one of his fingers stroke me from my ass to my clit "…for me or all for the 'boy'?"

"Yes."

"Yes to what, beautiful."

"You."

"Look at you, such a needy slut. Do you often do this in public?"

"No, this is the first time." His words are turning me on. No one has ever called me such a name, but it coming from his lips makes me hotter.

I feel his hand squeeze one of my knees, and he pushes it so that one foot is on the table and the other hanging off the side. After a moment, he repeats the action with my other leg. Needing more, I slide one finger in the side of my panties, and revel in the feeling of skin on skin. I slowly push one finger inside myself, and begin to pump in slowly. His hands start rubbing up and down my thighs moving closer and closer to where I want them. He stops once he reaches me hips and hooks his thumbs in the waist of the thong.

I remove my hand long enough for him to remove the panties. Once off, he places them in his pocket stating they are his now. I move my hand back and begin to rub my fingers over my body. I arch my back and moan, knowing he is watching me. "Look at me." I open my eyes and see him staring intently at me. He leans in so closely and begins to speak. "I'm going to kiss you now. There are so many things I have imagined doing to you, and tonight you are going to make them come true." Before I have a chance to respond, his lips are on mine.

His kiss is firm but not overly hard. I feel his tongue run over my upper lip and instantly open my mouth to him. His tongue meets mine, and we moan into each other's mouth. His tongue dances with mine while maintaining dominance of the kiss. I relax into it and take in his taste. It's like a full-bodied velvety glass of wine. I can feel my body responding, and my fingers begin to caress my flesh faster. My moans becoming more frequent and louder and I'm close to losing control. He must notice because he reaches down and pulls my hand away. "You will not come until I say so," he says looking into my eyes. I watch as he takes my hands to his mouth and sucks my essence from my hand. "You taste better than honey. That is the sweetest taste ever to grace my lips." Instantly, his lips are on mine again, and I begin to taste a hint of myself on his tongue. The mix of flavors, my center and his mouth, are amazing. We both moan out in pleasure.

I feel him reach for my hips and pick me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks to push me up against the row of dryers. I feel his hardness pressing against me, and it's almost enough. He grinds into my center harder while one of his hands begins to roam my body. "Take this off," he says, reaching for the bottom of my shirt. He pulls me away from the dryer just enough for me to remove the cloth from my body. He groans loudly when he realizes I'm not wearing a bra. I instantly feel the cold metal of the dryer on my back, and he pushes me into it harder.

I reach for his shirt only for him to tell me "not yet." He carries me back to the table, only this time; he lays me flat on it. "This is how this will work. You are going to reach over your head and hold the edge of the table. You will not, at any point, let go. If you do; I stop. It's as simple as that. Do you understand?" He is so demanding, and dominating. I have never felt as alive as I do right now. The only answer I give him is the sight of me reaching over my head and following his command.

He pulls my hips to the end of the table, and I hear him as he drops to his knees. He quickly removes the skirt and has left me naked, helpless, and out in the open. If anyone were to come in tonight, they would see us. The thought is flushed from my mind the moment I feel his tongue on my slit. He runs it from my ass to my clit, where he stops to swirl his tongue around. The feeling of his mouth on me is amazing. He sets my body on fire, and I can feel the heat and electrical shocks flow throughout my cells. He licks me over and over before adding his fingers. Mine are nothing compared to his hands. He works my body repeatedly, and just as I am about to come, he stops. I groan in frustration, and he only chuckles. "I told you, you will only come when I tell you to, and I have not given permission."

He stands and smiles when he sees that my hands are still gripping the table. I wanted more than anything to reach down and run my fingers through his hair, just to pull him closer to me, but what I wanted more was his mouth on me. He kisses his way up my body and stops at my mouth. "I really want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, but I want you all to myself. I won't risk anyone else seeing this, so I'm going to fuck your pussy tonight."

God, his words turn my on. I can't wait to feel this man in me. I can't believe I am going to do this. It goes against everything I was ever taught, but I can't think when I'm around him. He steps closer, and I notice that the table is the perfect height. I watch as he unbuckles his belt, removes the button, and unzips his pants. He slowly pulls them down, and I watch as his rock hard clock springs free from its confinement. Fuck, it's beautiful. It's the longest, thickest, hardest cock I have ever seen. Not that I have seen many, but this is by far the best.

Without further words, he is deep inside me. I scream out, not in pain, but the immense pleasure that this man is causing me. He fills me like no other has before. I can feel every glorious inch of him. I forget where we are and all I can focus on is us. "Fuck, you are so tight and warm. There is nothing on this earth that could feel better than you wrapped around me." He begins to move in and out of me. It's far too slow for my liking. "What do you want, beautiful? I can see it in your face. Tell me what you need?"

I moan at both the feeling of him inside me and the sound of his words. "Harder. I need it harder…faster…please, I say in-between breaths. He responds not with words, but with a deep kiss, and his hips moving faster. I want to touch him, but he still hasn't told me to move my hands, and I will not risk him stopping. As if he can read my mind, he stops the kiss and growls out for me to touch him. My hands are instantly in his hair, down his back. I hate that he is still clothed but I manage to reach under his shirt and find skin. He feels even better than I imagined. He is hard, and built, but so soft. He responds to my touch and begins to thrust harder.

I'm getting close again, and I wonder if he will let me come, or if I should just beg for it. I'm about to beg him when he begins to speak. "So, about this boy. Is he better than me?"

"No," I breathe out.

"Who is he?"

"It's you. It's always been you that makes me so wet." I'm so close. He has to let me come; I don't think I could take it if he were to stop now.

"That's where you are wrong, beautiful. I'm no "_boy." _I am a man. Now, let me show you what a man can do. Come for me now, beautiful." I have never heard such sweeter words. Instantly, at his command, I feel my body clench around him; the coil that had been twisting inside me suddenly bursts. I scream out around his mouth that has once again met mine. He tries to swallow my moans and screams, but it's useless. Never has such pleasure flowed through my body. He meets my climax, and I feel his body stiffen above mine. I pull him close and hold him as we ride out wave after wave of bliss.

Once we both calm, he helps me off the table. He walks me to the bathroom and helps me clean up, and get dressed again. I follow him back out front to where my laundry is waiting. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him. The realization of what just happened comes rushing back, and I get a bit nervous. "Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"I can't believe I just did that. What if someone had walked in?"

He leans down and kisses me softly. "Bella, I love you more than anything. You know how protective of you I am. Do you really think that I would risk any one coming in here and seeing you like that?"

"But how…"

"Baby, that's the great thing about owning this laundry mat. I can close whenever I want. I locked the door tonight, and put up the closed sign. There was never a risk of anyone coming in, and if you noticed, you were never in full sight of the windows."

"Oh, baby. You thought of everything. I love you."

"I love you too. Thank you for agreeing to this for me. It's always been a fantasy of mine."

"Edward, you know that I love you more than anything. Besides, this was the perfect way to start off spring cleaning. Can we go home now? I would like to make love to my husband."

"Of course, love. Let's close up for real now."

I helped my husband gather up our laundry, and wipe down the table. We did the last minute things, and closed up the shop. I don't think I will ever look at spring cleaning the same way ever again. I almost want to create more laundry just to do it over again. Well, maybe I can convince him to start the spring like this every year.


End file.
